was the great Grimpen Mire, where only yesterday he had seen one of
the moor ponies, who wandered into it, sucked down to its death. Even
as we looked, we saw the long, agonized writhing neck of another pony
shoot upward and heard a dreadful cry echo over the moor which turned me
cold with horror.
My companion's nerves seemed to be stronger than mine. He talked of
learning to penetrate the moor to reach the islands where the rare
plants & butterflies were to be found, but when I said that I, too,
would try one day he became less sanguine concerning the idea and
warned me that there would not be the least chance of any one coming
back alive who did attempt such a thing. I think it was then that
we heard a long, low moan, indescribably sad, sweep over the moor. From
a dull murmur it swelled into a deep roar, and then sank back into
